


Comfortable

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 17:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lindir’s made himself at home in Círdan’s.





	Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfLions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfLions/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for the-puppets-mistress’ “36. “Is that my shirt?” Cirdan/Lindir” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/160417565360/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Elrond is a delightful guest, and Círdan thoroughly enjoys the time they spend together on his visits, thought it’s still always nice to retire for the night. Círdan’s spent so many years in his seaside home that weariness is hard to dispel, even for the power that Narya once gave him. Only one youthful face has been enough to fully stir him. He’s pleased when he opens his door to find that minstrel perched delicately in the middle of his bed. 

Buried in a fresh batch of scrolls, Lindir is a beauty. The tall windows are still drawn open, letting in the starlight to slip along his creamy skin, his dark hair drawn back in a loose ribbon. He’s shed his robes for the day and wears only a loose, cotton tunic that barely covers the tops of his thighs, draped just enough across his lap, and tugged down one slender shoulder. Demurely bent over his script, he pays rapt attention to every word. Círdan strolls soundlessly forward, not wanting to disturb Lindir’s quiet reverie, then comes to a sudden realization and muses aloud: “Is that my shirt?”

Lindir startles, glancing up, and his pale cheeks flush bright scarlet. He reacts so easily, so innocently, and it brings joy to Círdan’s chest every time. Lindir quickly ducks his head and swiftly apologizes, “I am so sorry, my lord. I... it is just that I stained my robes polishing the floors of the east hall, and... as you said to make myself comfortable in your home, and my own supplies were clear across the keep, I... I’d hope it would be alright...?” His voice is so soft, so tentative and polite, as gentle as the rest of his prettiness. He’s a gem, and Círdan smiles.

As Lindir lifts his head, Círdan shakes his. Forgetting the tunic for a moment, he sighs, “You are a guest in my home, Lindir. What ever were you doing scrubbing floors?”

If possible, Lindir blushes darker. He lowers his gaze once again and mumbles, “I... could not help it. I am a servant...”

“You are a lovely songbird,” Círdan insists, now drifting closer. “One that is always welcome in my home, in my bed, and in my clothes.”

Lindir chuckles pleasantly, just as Círdan hikes himself onto the bed, climbing forward still fully dressed. Most nights, Lindir has helped to strip him, unbidden but falling easily into a role somewhere between servant and lover. Now Círdan gives him no chance, but crawls towards him, only to kiss his cheek, then lower down his jaw, and Lindir tilts his head aside to allow Círdan access to his slender neck. Círdan brushes the silken strands away to cover the skin in kisses. Lindir giggles all the more delightedly and squirms. 

As Círdan bends Lindir back onto the mattress, heedless of the scrolls, Lindir murmurs, “But you still have every right to take it off me.”

Grinning with ease, Círdan follows the suggestion.


End file.
